September 2008


When someone writes a song, with or without words, and says it’s for you, about you or inspired by you…you wonder:  What was/is this person thinking about while writing/playing this song?

Is it happiness, sadness, blissful melancholy?  What?

And what warrants your worthiness to have such a thing written about you?  It really puts one on the spot…

But whatever your initial reaction and/or feelings that come with this announcement, with it must come an inherent ego-boost.  Apparently, you got inside this other person’s head so much that, for whatever reason, they have completely altered the musical history of their being as an artist.  That’s a biggie, I think.  Love you or hate you, this emotional THING would not have ever existed exactly as it is without your influence.  You may not have created it, but you moved the forces that did.  In a way, it makes you just a little bit immortal.  Immortal in the way the Girl with the Pearl Earring is immortal.  Immortal in the way that each and every one of Picasso’s, Renoir’s, Goya’s or any other great artist’s model becomes immortal.  Just because those that hear this song may never ever see what your mortal flesh looks like…well, that doesn’t even enter into the equation.  They will HEAR what the artist felt, they will FEEL what the artist heard.

You have become, just one tiny bit, part of and closer to the Infinite…more than your were ever before…whether you feel like you deserve to or not.

Your 15 minutes just got a major hit on the website of the Universe.

And, honestly…it can feel DAMN good!

© 2008 D. Kessler

One may ask oneself, in this internet-insane world in which we now live in, “Is it really necessary to write yet another blog?”  Yet one more self-absorbed Twenty-, Thirty-, Forty-, Add-Your-Age-Here- Something with neuroses more nonchalant than nocuous spilling their mental meanderings in a superfluous spew of chicken scratches a la the World Wide Web?

I would say not…and yet…?

Here I am. Not content to hammer my head shut with proverbial nine-inch nails and let the voices stay inside to fester, squabble and murder each other (or my psyche), I have taken up my crucible in the hopes of stimulating not just my demons, but maybe also the readers’ (ah…if there BE any readers…).  Might we just, via such agitation and entanglement, strive to entice, seduce and possibly cast out those demons with which we care not to continue coexistence?  And quite probably, we may encounter new and altogether welcome “demons” that will water our wasteland into Spring…

What exactly do I think will come of this blathering?  Ahh…thoughts of what I see, thoughts of what I hear, thoughts of that what everyone else should see but may not? 

Maybe just an eye through my lens…be it fish-eye, rose-filtered or clouded…and the twist my voices take on that view through my looking-glass…

© 2008 D. Kessler